Matchmaker, matchmaker
by Oneriver
Summary: Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! A ZukoxKatara story, full of political intrigue and personal reassessment. Zuko's heart grapples with love, honor, and suicide.
1. Default Chapter

_**SPOILER ALERT!**_

The following is a **TOTAL SPOILER!** Do NOT read it unless you're confused… or impatient. If you want to read the story normally, **Go to the next chapter, "The Storm."** Sorry this is so disorganized!

Full Story Outline:

Zuko & Katara

Prince Zuko is lured into a trap by his arch foe, Commander Zhao. Because he has re-entered Fire Nation territory, Zuko is found guilty of treachery, and sentenced to death. The craven Zhao uses the prince's Uncle Iro as leverage, gaining the prince's cooperation. Iro, though his life is threatened, urges his protégé to resist arrest, but Zuko refuses.

"I have been so proud," cries the old man, "but Zuko, please! My life has no value if I cannot pass on what I have learned!" Prince Zuko, more to comfort the old man than to boast, claims that there is a slight chance he might survive.

Means of execution: According to tradition, treacherous nobility are privileged with precise and ritualistic executions. All available fire-benders 'in the surrounding area' are gathered to the site of death, where they simultaneously burn the criminal at the stake. The criminal is free to use his own are to defend himself, but only in legends has anyone survived the procedure.

Meanwhile, Iro plots to interfere with his nephew's execution. Commander Zhao has other ideas. Although General Iro's safety was promised in exchanged for his nephew's cooperation, Zhao accompanies an armed squad to the old man's residence and arrests him. He levies false charges against him, ordering him imprisoned until trial (at some distant, conveniently unspecified date). This dishonorable behavior does not surprise the old general, but he still resists. As Commander Zhao had hoped, Iro succeeds in escaping. Because this is not an act of treachery, Iro's resistance justifies the commander to assassinate him (but only with a very loose interpretation of Fire Nation law).

Zhao and his men hunt down the general over the next few days, finally pinning him near the prison barracks. After a violent battle, during which six guards are slain, Iro is defeated. . Just before Iro realizes his fate is death, Zhao tells him with relish, "Just before that nephew of yours burns, I will tell him that his uncle is _dead_." Zhao has him stripped, bound to a heavy stone, and shaven. (chopping off a man's warrior hair-knot was once the Japanese equivalent to stealing his honor.) This done, Iro is sent off in a small boat with two armed guards, to be thrown into the sea.

Meanwhile, Prem, hot on the Avatar's trail, has become caught up in the Zuko/Iro drama. She was present at Prince Zuko's arrest, and has followed his uncle's adventures since then. When Iro is cast out to sea, she follows the ship (with the help of a sympathetic sea monster) and arrives in time to see him singe his ropes from his hands. Still, he holds onto the stone, sinking ever deeper until his captors are drawn away, and then resurfaces. Instead of trying to swim to the distant shore, as Prem expects, he merely floats there, contemplating death. Prem finally confronts him, startling him by emerging from the mouth of a once-hidden serpent. He says only that his life is no longer worth living, and that he has failed as teacher and uncle to his doomed prince. Prem challenges that he has given up on his grand scheme to interfere at the execution, and insinuates that he must hold some sway over his Fire Lord brother. At this, Iro gives his trademark Zen-master laugh and says, "Fine then. I will live on, if only to keep a girl so young, pretty, and _argumentative_ as yourself from seeing mortality." Prem doesn't mention that she has lived ling enough to see a thousand deaths, but carries him back to shore.

All of this occurs without Prince Zuko's knowing. Locked in a prison cell, he has been isolated from the outside world, and assumes that Commander Zhao will hold true to his word. On the night before the execution, Zhao visits his iron-barred cell and smugly informs him of his uncle's "death." Quick as lightning, Zuko leaps u and grabs the general's throat through the bars, burning him severely. Zhao breaks the hold before Zuko can crush his windpipe, fleeing down the corridor. The prince sends a powerful blast of fire after him, swearing to kill him.Alone in his cell that night, Zuko sheds two steaming tears, his first since childhood. He willfully transmutes his sorrow over his uncles death to anger that both he and his teacher will have died for _nothing._

That morning, Zuko is transported to a remote island, where the firing squad awaits. A crowd of nobles has gathered to watch, most with satisfaction that they are that much closer to the throne. Iro sneaks in with this crowd, intending to use his formidable fire-bending to divert the executioners' blasts. But lo and behold, Zhao treachery runs deep. Not only has he gathered the fire-benders 'n the surrounding area,' but has summoned up fifty troopers to assist. Not even Zuko and his uncle stand a chance against this force, but each is determined to try. (Neither uncle nor nephew make eye contact during the ceremony—Zuko still believes his uncle is dead). Zuko is bound to the stake, and the executioners take their places. Three bells toll, and heat sears through the air! The initial blast is blinding, incredibly powerful, but Zuko cleverly repels much of it back to its senders, killing twenty-five soldiers. Zhao, his primary target, is wounded but alive. Energy expended, the prince slumps unconscious while his uncle meditates on keeping the powerful flames away from his body. He only partially succeeds: Prince Zuko's skin is badly burned, but not as bad as it could have been. Just when the confusion is at its height, a tremendous wave sweeps over the scene, dousing the flames, toppling on-lookers, and sweeping the dead across the sand. With Zhao unconscious, his second in command orders a full evacuation, afraid that the nobles will be injured. Because the wave, coupled with the singing flames, detached Zuko from the stake, everyone assumes he was incinerated, including his mournful uncle.

In a panic, nobles and soldiers alike load into the ships, leaving their dead behind. Unseen, Zuko's singed but living body lies at the foot of the stake. And who should emerge from the woods but Katara?

Katara was separated from her brother and the avatar during a violent sea-storm. Only with the use of water-bending was she able to arrive safely on the island, and even then half-drowned. Sokka and Aang are searching for her, but there is very little hope they will ever stumble across this island, even with Appa's help. It was she who summoned the wave, not knowing that the 'enemy of the fire nation' she expected is truly prince Zuko!

Katara hefts Zuko's unrecognizable body to her shelter, taking great care to cause as little pain as possible. There, she bandages his almost his entire body, amazed that he is alive at all. He suffers from extreme smoke-inhalation, and does not wake for a matter of days.

When the Prince finally wakes up, he at first wonders if he is in the afterlife. Then the pain hits, and reality sets in. He moves very little-wary of cracking his many scabs, but sees enough to know he has been cared for. Then Katara leans into view. She asks how he's feeling, if he needs anything, to which he angrily croaks that he needs no help from the likes of _her_. She clearly doesn't understand his grudge against her, but retorts that 'the likes of her' has been tending to him for nearly a week. Zuko, bandaged to the teeth and scorched to the point of baldness, finally realizes that Katara doesn't recognize him. Too weak for battle, he decides that revealing his identity would only cause trouble. When pressed, he names himself Conleth (austere fire).

In his sickbed, 'Conleth' settles in to a long period of silent brooding. He struggles to deny the deep loss he has suffered at his uncle's 'death,' and contemplates revenge. He feels that his life now is a pitiful mockery: an honorless, banished prince, unable to move and being tended to by his enemy. Zhao's survival mocks him, but the prince now wonders if he is even capable of an assassination. Zuko has lost everything to the clever commander, failing to kill him twice. Suicide seems tempting alterative. Burning with anger and humiliation (among other things) Conleth isn't very pleasant company. Whenever his nurse prods him into conversation, he usually says something intense and angry, making Katara laugh at what she calls 'melodrama.'

Katara is intrigued by the mysterious stranger, who won't even tell her why the Fire Nation so desperately wanted him dead. Mysterious fragments he mutters in his sleep hint at a peculiar past, but any clues he gives have been incomplete murmurs. Tending to his wounds (as well as the loneliness any deserted island can inspire) requires that she spend much time with him, during which she does most of the talking. She regales him with stories of her adventures with the avatar, and tales of home, which she misses deeply. She speculates about her brother's welfare, and remarks that now no one is around to sow up his ragged pants. Over the weeks, Conleth's attitude towards his hostess softens. He hasn't received such gentle treatment since his earliest, only vaguely-recalled childhood, when his mother was alive. He recognizes in Katara a gentle but courageous spirit, and almost regrets hunting her so ruthlessly. Almost.

About two weeks after he first awakens, Zuko pushes himself into functioning (or at least walking) normally. Feeling idle, he immediately begins work on improving the shelter, and contemplates a hunting trip later on. He also pays a visit to the site of his 'execution,' to bury whatever's left of the soldier's he'd slain. He finds that the scavengers have taken all but a few scattered bones—and one other item he recognizes with awe. As was the custom, the victim's most prized possessions were to be burned with him. In prison, Zuko had crossly ordered that they simply burn those things they'd confiscated at his arrest. Now, lying in a pile of blackened sand and driftwood, he recognized a blue lump of glass. He'd forgotten… been carrying Katara's necklace in his pack…

Another week passes, and Conleth's condition only improves, as well as his relationship with Katara. They work in perfect harmony on the island, and the only persistently hot topic between them is the removal of his bandages. After the first few weeks of recovery, Conleth stubbornly refused to let Katara touch his dressings, claiming that to do so would only tear his already fragile skin. In truth, he had begun to remove them himself, softening them first in the bay, and recognized his reflection in the water. His face was on its way to healing into its former self, but he is determined to keep his true identity from Katara. He is certain that she could never reconcile the violent and ruthless Prince Zuko from her stories with the stubborn but hard-working Conleth she might be falling for…

Another week passes, and Conleth and Katara are definitely in love. They share their first kiss on a moonlit night by the island's natural ravine, a sharp schism carved out of the wooded mountain. Plenty of blushing to go around.

The next day, Katara suggests they build a ship. Her mangled attempts to fashion a raft now form the roof of their shelter, but now that Conleth is with her, she thinks there might be some hope. He very reluctantly agrees, only because he knows how Katara longs to be with her friends. The idea troubles him more than she understands. Here, on this island, Zuko has been able to hide from his past, but a boat would surely force him to face it head-on. He senses his utopian time with Katara is drawing to an end, and regresses into the brooding stranger he was on day one. Katara notices this, but doesn't press him for a reason; by now, she has learned that _asking_ is never the way to get an answer from Conleth.

As the boat takes shape, Conleth becomes more and more withdrawn, alienating his fellow castaway. Every reference to home Katara makes seems to fill him with undue anger, and more than once she finds herself retaliating against his snappishness. On one of their better nights, Katara and Conleth prepare to go to sleep side by side, he feels an irrational panic rising in his chest. He tries to subdue it, tries to focus on the late-night tale Katara is spinning. She tells him the story off her mother's necklace, how she treasured it so, how the evil Prince Zuko tried to use it against her. She falls asleep soon after, leaving him alone to rot in his guilt. He leaves the shelter, reflecting on his current existence.

His conclusion: He cannot face is past without destroying what he loves. Reality tells him that he is worthless, a contemptible scoundrel who brings shame on both his family and the human race by continuing to exist. He has dishonored his family first by banishment, then by failing to capture the avatar, then by turning his back on his uncle by wasting time in this little paradise. The only way to restore balance on this scale is suicide, an honorable death for any Fire Nation soldier. On the other scale is Katara. She is the only living companion he cares for, the only person he's ever loved as a woman. Yet he'd shamelessly hunted her like a wounded deer in his past life. For this, he knows he deserves to die. Worst of all is knowing that Katara's love for him will evaporate as soon as she learns his true name. For this, he _wants_ to die. He feels so wretched and worthless inside…

Quietly, Zuko returns to the hut and lays the fateful trinket where he would usually sleep, where Katara is sure to find it. As dawn breaks, he makes his way to the ravine, ready to throw himself in. On the way, he miserably tears off the bandages that have so inefficiently hidden his shame from the world, revealing a healed face and ragged, newly-grown hair. The sky brightens to pale grey, and the wind picks up. Zuko stands on the cliff's very edge, daring the winds to toss him in. Just as he takes his final step, someone shrieks his name. His real name.

Katara has just emerged from the wood, crying and clutching her mother's necklace. She had followed the trail of bandages to this spot, sensing the desperate act the prince intends. She pleads with Zuko not to jump, to which he expresses all the doubts he's had, the shame he's entrenched in, saying that this is the only honorable way out. He confesses doing horrible things to her and her friends, and bitterly challenges her to push him over the edge herself. Katara is sobbing helplessly, but manages to tell him that she still loves him, no matter what his past is. She senses he has a beautiful soul, despite webs he has spun around himself. Zuko is quieted in shock, amazed that anyone could care for such a despicable being. He answers quietly that he loves Katara too, and is just considering stepping away from the ledge when an unexpected gust pushes him over! Katara screams. Suddenly, with a long _whoosh_, a furry white mass soars up from the ravine. It's Appa! On his back sit Sokka, Aang, and yes, prince Zuko! The avatar's party has finally managed to track Katara down, arriving just in time to save the suicidal noble. Zuko sits numbly on the tail, blinking in shock for a moment, while Katara shouts with joy to her brother and friends. Sokka is torn between beating up the prince (who he assumes has been terrorizing her) and embracing his sister, while Aang focuses on piloting the beast while hooting with joy.

In the end, Prince Zuko joins the avatar's party, fighting against his father and Commander Zhao. He learns of his uncle's survival, and the two are joyfully reunited. Iro, too, lends his skills to Aang & company. Appa's back becomes even more crowded when Prem joins the crowd, but that's another story.

Ang & Prem

Prem

Soul-Benders: Soul-bending is a lost art, the memory of a departed order carried on by its only survivor. In its more practical mode, it is the action of manifesting spiritual energy as physical energy—most commonly as light or heat—then manipulating it as any other bender. The duality of spirit-bending and element-bending promotes balance in the world, as the avatar world view is bilateral. Having power over spiritual energy gives the bender unique insight into the world of souls. Prem can communicate with all other spirits in the physical world, at least on some level. Their language is basic emotion, which she often utilizes to make pleas for help. Souls themselves benefit from contact with Prem. Lower spirits; those of plants for example, have no sense of self or free will. Yet compassion, the force that ties all beings together, can drive them to voluntary action for the bender's sake. This creates a sense of self unknown to them before, which (when developed) can lead to a fortunate re-birth as a higher life form. The ultimate goal of any soul is to pass out of samsara, and the doorway is humanity. Only by entering this highest stage of earthly life can a soul hope to see the beyond.

History

Prem was a soul-bender born into the early Earth Kingdom during the Avatar's first life. The two fell deeply in love, and vowed to be together forever.The prevailing religious theory at the time was much like Eastern dualism: clean souls trapped within samsara. When the Avatar awoke, realizing his destiny was to remain within the dirty world until all souls had fled, he revoked his vow to Prem. Despite his profound love, he didn't want to hold her back from the world beyond. Instead, he proclaimed, they would have to "make their sun run" (see 'To His Coy Mistress'); to make up for an eternity they had lost.After bitter tears, Prem seemed to have accepted the compromise. Then, a desperate thought occurred to her. She would bind her spirit to the avatar's with soul bending, and follow him in the wheel of incarnation. She performed the ritual in secrecy, knowing that the conscientious avatar would never allow his love to suffer for his sake. The tether she fashioned was entirely one-sided: it did not bind him to her, but only her to him. The avatar's path through the cycle was not altered by her presence, while hers was entirely dependent on his... In this way, she did not inhibit his free will.When the avatar became aware of her furtive deed, he was saddened and exasperated. After many bitter words, he reluctantly accepted the love she was offering, and added his own strength to the bond between them. Now, the two souls intertwine in inseparable, mutual consent. Those events transpired many incarnations ago. Important developments occurred during the early years of Avatar Ang's life. Prem, according to habit, was born within months of his first breath, this time in a powerful Water Tribe. Before her path could cross with the avatar's, Ang foolishly froze himself in an iceberg. Feeling confused and abandoned, Prem watched the world around her descend into chaos. In the last years of her life, she concluded that the avatar's soul had fled without her to the world beyond, where their tie couldn't carry her. She held out for 101 years, still hoping that her love would find her.Prem was reincarnated only months after her death, eleven years before Ang emerged from stasis. From the Spirit World, she had been able to sense the avatar's continued existence within samsara, which both thrilled and saddened her. Had the avatar simply chosen not to find her? Had he also turned his back on the world? She became aware of Ang's activity when the Avatar Temples blazed with light on the day of his return. Since then, she has followed Ang on his travels, acting as an unseen guardian.

Physical description

Current incarnation: Prem is a fair, curly-haired young girl, attractive in a petite way. Her eyes are pale pink, as they often appear, and her garments are usually a pastel, rosy hue. She is accompanied always by her white-quilled hedgehog, Chandrakant.

First (human) Incarnation: Usually pictured as 23 years old, the age of the bonding ceremony. She had pale brown, almost grey hair and the tanned skin of an earth-bender. Her eyes, usually the grey of her kingdom, would flash bright pink when she used her abilities as soul-bender. She had no pets or dependents, though was often seen in the company of the avatar's spirit guide.

Once Previous Incarnation: Usually pictured as 101 years old, the year of her death. Hunched and wrinkled, skin of an orangey hue, she had allowed sorrow to steal away her beauty. Her eyes, once flecked with pink, slowly faded to grey as life drained hope from her heart. In those days, she would wear the garb of a Water Tribe Elder, and carry a crude staff. She became a recluse in her late life, but on rare occasions, she would visit with Katara and her grandmother.

Current disposition: Prem is a giving, genuine, caring person; but she is emotionally fragile due to trauma in her last life. She is terrified of Ang's rejection, and so keeps her distance until the day contact becomes absolutely necessary. Once assured that her abandonment was entirely inadvertent—even a misunderstanding—her soul begins to heal. She opens up to reveal a fun-loving, courageous girl who likes nothing more than penguin-riding.

**You FOOL! You TOTALLY just spoiled the story for yourself!**

You can see stories like these (fully-written) at my website, http colon slash slash huhakux dot proboards31 dot com slash index dot cgi?board equals write, or even post your own there, if you want to.


	2. The Storm

Sorry this took so ling everyone! My dad took away the compure for quite a while…

….

_It was a strange dream, one told from the eyes of another. _

_He was riding on the back of a flying bison, lost in a terrible sea storm. Intermittent flashes of lightning revealed a churning ocean below, and a large, twin-mountained island in the distance. The avatar sat in front of him, gripping the beat's reigns with helpless desperation, while the young water-bender sat behind him. He was… Sokka?_

_The bison lurched through the air, tossed about in a violent current. Freezing rain pelted Sokka's face with bullet-like force. Blinded by the rain and deafened by the wind, he clung tightly to the animal's wet fur. He felt useless, watching the two benders struggle against the storm. "Aang!" he shouted, but his words were swept into the void._

_A fierce gust blasted them from below, sending bison and crew soaring upwards. Sokka's pack jerked free from its place in the saddle, his father's boomerang glinting at him in the front pouch. "NO!" He dove forward, hooking his foot to a loose saddle strap and snatching his pack from the air. His body thudded against Appa's side, but he held tight. Katara shouted something to him, but its meaning was lost in the wind. _

_Appa moaned, suddenly diving towards the sea. Sokka straddled awkwardly into an upright position, steeling himself against the G-force plunge. They leveled out just above the frothing water, Appa's hooves skimming across the waves. The winds here were slightly less intense, but their young pilot hadn't anticipated what came next. A sudden swell heaved into existence, crashing against the bison's wide chest. He gave a deafening cry, losing altitude. Aang yanked back on the reigns as the ocean rose around them, momentarily submerging the beast up to his neck. Appa gave a valiant effort with his beaver-like tail, but he just wasn't able to regain the height he had lost._

_Panicking, Sokka looked to his water-bending sister, to see what she would do about it. His heart plummeted to his feet as he realized… she wasn't there._

Prince Zuko bolted upright in bed, eyes darting around the room. Caught in the fringe between dream and reality, the violent seas of his nightmare seemed to merge with the rocking of his ship. He blearily tried to recall the vision that had left him with such images, this lingering sense of guilt and horror… but could not.

He shook himself, finally bringing the waking world into focus. He was in the captain's quarters of his iron cruiser, an austere room that, while exponentially out-classing the standard cots of his crewmembers, was sorely lacking a domestic touch. The few and carefully chosen knickknacks he had were shaking violently, rolling and toppling off shelves. It was no dream—his ship was caught in a squall!

"_Why_ didn't my uncle _wake_ me!" he thundered, mortified that his captain's duties were being neglected. He threw himself out of bed and dashed to the bridge, stumbling several times in the rolling corridors.

A coal-burning ship, like this, had little in the way of outer adornment. There were no cumbersome sails to fasten down, no ropes to secure—certainly a Fire Nation cruiser shouldn't depend on the fickle _wind_? And yet, the location of Zuko's cabin required a quick march across the deck, before he could reach the bridge. Throwing open the door was like inviting a belligerent frost giant to tea. An initial blast of icy wind sent the prince skidding backwards, and the accompanying sheets of rain were no comfort. He hurriedly made his way across the slick floor, to finally arrive at his station sopping wet.

"_Uncle_!" came his shout as the door burst open, "_Why_ was your captain not _summoned_ at this crisis?"

Old General Iro glanced from the viewport where he stood in command, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "You seemed to be having such an _intense_ rest, Prince Zuko. It would have been a shame to wake you. You know, you have really been stressed lately—"

His nephew gave an exasperated growl. "Step aside!" His uncle smilingly complied. One of the younger ensigns failed to conceal a smile at Iro's hijynks, earning Zuko's blood-chilling glare.

From there, Zuko handled the ship expertly through the rough waters. His vessel, while equipped with formidable weaponry and speed, was vulnerable in such storms. It's long, spear-like frame opened the way for any wave to topple it on its side, making it necessary to face every swell head-on. Distractedly watching the captain set about these maneuvers, the lookout missed a vitally important signal to the west. There, where the ship had been gradually edging for the past hour, winked a burning warning of flame.

"Sir!" he squeaked when he saw it, alarmed at its abrupt proximity. "Lighthouse at starboard!"

"What?" asked Iro, alarm breaking through his stoic temperament.

"Give me that!" barked the prince, snatching the telescope away from the sentry. The lookout cringed, watching his captain's face contort as he realized the danger. "_How_ could you let us drift so _close_!" he thundered, striking the man across the face. He only offered a low, wordless bow in apology, too ashamed to speak.

Iro appeared at his nephew's side, squinting through the side port. The sky was illuminated for a moment by lightning, but one faint pinprick did not fade when the passing brilliance subsided. "So close…" he echoed, his murmur etched with concern. "Prince Zuko, we must be at Youkai's Point." Zuko listened expectantly, respecting the uncommon gravity in his uncle's voice. He continued: "The rocks here extend miles out to sea—as the tide is high, I suspect they are just beneath us!" He grabbed a rail as the ship rolled.

"Then we must exit the area immediately," was the concise reply. Zuko drew breath to begin shouting orders, but the general held up a hand.

"_No_, Prince Zuko. Our best chance is to deactivate the engines—they will surely detonate on the crags! If we follow the pull of the tide, we can ride out the storm bracing against the larger stones to the west, with only minimal damage!"

"We cannot _afford _to be _damaged _in this part of the world," Zuko countered, words slashing through the air like a whip. "All power to starboard main!" he shouted, "Get us _out_ of here before we drift any closer!"

The deck creaked with unsettling volume as his men hurried to obey, relaying his orders to the engine room. Iro bowed his head, doubtful of their chances for escape, but respecting his protégé's authority. All present felt a slight sway as the ship pivoted to the east. Course corrected, Zuko ordered full power to port as well, sending them lurching into the path of an oncoming wave. _I hope I'm right, _he thought, eying the roaming mountain of water. Lightning flashed, and thunder shook his bones. The familiar tilt of the deck sent many hands flying to support rails as the crew braced themselves for a drop. _I _must_ be right, _Zuko thought, looking at the pale, fear-stricken faces around him. All of these men had trusted him…

The straining engines just barely thrust them to the crest of the wave. They only had to make it over the edge, and they would be out of danger! Each frightened soldier held his breath, watching as black sky and black water surged in the viewport. Even sound seemed to stop, as if time himself shared their silent anticipation. Then…

_Creeeeeaaaaaaakkkk_

Senses rushed back as the ship whined. A horrible, lurching sensation took hold as the iron vessel slipped down, down towards the rocks it had so desperately fled from. _"CUT POWER!"_ Zuko shouted, louder than he had meant. A general shout rose, low at first, then higher in a panicked fervor. Everyone felt the ship torn open beneath them, gutted on a jagged stone.

_**BOOM!**_

The port engine exploded.

…..

PEOPLE: (crazed Zuko fans across the net smash their monitors)

ME: Relax, people! He's not dead… or is he? Bwahah! You'll find out... And don't worry! Aang & company will be more than just a cameo in this series.

You can see more stories like this at my website, http colon slash slash huhakux dot proboards31 dot com slash index dot cgi?board equals write, or even post your own there, if you want to.

CREATIVE PEOPLE: (share collective grin)

ME: And if you catch any mistakes in these chapters, feel free to message me about them. I don't want to contradict /too/ much with the series. Also, I don't know much about naval rank... and i don't know if i'm using terms like 'starboard' right.

NIT-PICKING PEOPLE: (even bigger grin)


	3. The Sentry's Absolution

And we're back! This chapter is called "The Sentry's Absolution." Remember the young watch who screwed up on the boat? The one who didn't see the lighthouse until it was too late? Well there was more to his failure than it seemed…

…

A short while earlier…

The lighthouse at Youkai's Point, though blessed with a commanding view and a full stock of unperishables, was not a pleasant place to be. Two sacks of silver coins lay unopened on a table. Two chairs were propped up against a wall, one occupied, the other empty. A young man, about eighteen, paced the floor, gripping a collapsible telescope tightly. His aimlessmarch occasionally halted for a glance through said telescope, or a worried appraisal of the dead fire to his side. An older man, face irreversibly set in a frightening scowl, watched his progress with growing agitation.

"It's not getting any _wetter_ out there," he snapped, watch the boy take another look through the rain-splattered windows, "so you can stop _checking!_"

The younger man ignored him, squinting anxiously through the scope. "Oh, god, I think I see a fisherman out there! He's crashed!"

The old man's scowl tightened. "You're losing your nerve, boy," he said. His voice was low, dangerous. "You can't back out of a deal with Enforcement."

The lad snapped the scope shut, running worried fingers through his hair. "It's totaled. It's been completely totaled…"

"And what do you suggest _we_ do about it!" the old man barked. They'd been through this before; he was tired of making the same, tough decision over and over again.

"What do you _think_, you old fag!" snapped the other, glaring at him. "Light the damn fire!"

The 'old fag' thumped his palm against one of the coin sacks, making it jingle, reminding his cohort of their motivation. "We made an _agreement_, boy! Lighting it now won't help that fellow anyway!"

"How can you even _talk_ like that?" exclaimed the other, his young conscience appalled. "At least it would warn any others to stay away!"

"_How can I talk like that_? Why, how _can_ I talk like that!" he mimicked scornfully. "Yes, and you're a real _saint_ yourself."

"I shouldn't have let you talk me into this, I admit it. But it's not too late to stop this before anyone else gets hurt!"

"Easy for you to say, kid! You're young—you've got nothing to lose! No property, no debts, no attachments… I've got a _family_ to take care of." He grabbed his share of the loot, feeling the weight of it in his hand, trying to quell the sickly feeling in his stomach. _I've been working in this lighthouse since I was _your_ age, _he brooded,_ and what do I have to show for it! My children are too thin… my wife dresses like a damned beggar…_

"What about _his_ family!" said the younger, jabbing a finger at the window. Some nameless fisherman was floundering out there, probably wondering why the lighthouse hadn't warned him of the danger. "That ship was his livelihood—"

"Oh, _shut up_!"the old man interupted,guilt paining him. "If you care about him so damned much, why don't you go _save_ him!"

"I think I will!"

They exchanged more angry words as the young man stormed to the closet, pulled on his coat, and exited in a righteous huff. _"And I don't want that fucking money!"_ he hollered from the bottom of the stairs. He slammed the door with a gusto atainable onlyby those afflicted with the dreaded 'Teen Angst.'

The old man twitched at the noise. "Stupid child…" he muttered. "More silver for me, I guess." He sat back in his chair, arms folded squarely across his chest. _He_ was no coward, _he _wouldn't back down. He had sworn to follow through—not only to those Enforcement agents, but also to his family. _We'll eat like kings for a year, _he thought, _or finally buy a bigger hut for the baby. _These thoughts, however happily he had entertained them the night before, brought him little solace now. _What about _his_ family?_ the boy's words echoed in his mind. …_Goddamnit._

"Darn you, kid!" he shouted, jumping up. He grabbed a torch from the wall and flung it into the embers, setting the signal ablaze. He'd broken his contract, but saved many lives. "Enforcement will have my ass for this…" he groaned. Living in Fire Nation territory could be so difficult, especially in a province under martial law. Enforcement, those faceless policemen who kept this township loyal, would not be pleased with him.

He hurried to the coat closet, still muttering profanities on the boy's life, name, and extended family. It was all nonsense, of course. He was off to help the kid with his idiotic heroics right now.

Hesnatched the collapsible telescope from the floor to gauge his position. He could just barely see the wreck, a shabby, wooden boat twenty meters offshore. The boy hadn't quite reached the water's edge—_What_ _was that?_ The man's eyes widened in amazement as abright, fiery explosion blossomed on the horizon. ._Is that—was that the _Prince's cruiser?_! I don't believe it—it worked! _

….

PEOPLE: What! There weren't even any known characters in this one!

ME: Well…

PEOPLE: And we STILL don't know what happened to _Zuko_!

ME: (twiddles fingers, pretending not to be the sadistic bastard I really am)

…

You can see stories like this at my website, http colon slash slash huhakux dot proboards31 dot com slash index dot cgi?board equals write, or even post your own there, if you want to.


	4. Defeat

Yes, this chapter is called "Defeat," but don't get too discouraged! Defeat can be a temporary thing… and a very good motivator.

….

It was morning, though one couldn't tell it from the dreary heavens. Grey clouds lumbered overhead, still leaden with the remnants of last night's squall. Dim, colorless light bled through gaps in the hanging veil, to shine on three, dejected mariners.

Appa, Aang, and Sokka sat on the beach, drained completely of energy and hope. The bison, fatigued from flying without rest through hellish weather, lay motionless in the sand, drawing deep, shuddering breaths that worried his pilot. Aang lifted a heavy hand to rub his sweat-soaked fur, but it was an empty gesture. He was simply weary to offer much comfort.

Sokka sat a few yards away, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the sand between his legs with lifeless eyes. A cold breeze stirred the sand, teasing his briny hair and clothing, but he made no reaction. "How could I let this happen?" he whispered, hardly knowing he spoke aloud. Aang glanced at him, but had no answer. "If only I hadn't jumped for that stupid pack… I might have seen her fall… might have saved her."

His words, though uselessly self-damning, were true enough. Katara had been swept overboard during the storm, probably right after she'd shouted to him. Had Sokka, or even Aang, been more attentive, this might have been avoided. But nothing could be done about it now.

They had spent all night flying over the ocean, searching for their lost friend. They had found _nothing_. No trace of her remained floating on the water—not even a missing shoe, a piece of cloth. For all that they could prove, the smiling water-bender was a fictitious memory.

"We'll keep looking," said Aang. "We'll keep looking until we find her."

….

That same morning, Prince Zuko's iron cruiser floated helplessly offshore, braced against two natural pillars of stone. They were trapped, damaged beyond repair, but no longer in danger of capsizing. Unable to maneuver the wreck any longer, Zuko had opted for his uncle's plan, sheltering among the rocks until the storm had passed. The already-battered hull was not holding up well against the constant _bang _of the stones, as the ship rocked back and forth in the waves.

Zuko sat brooding in his quarters, forming a plan. Outside, the hull made a relentless _thump-creeeeak _noise that he was _not_ getting used to. _I cannot _believe_ Zhao managed to poison my crew! _he thought, thinking back to the pre-dawn hours of morning. Two crewmembers, who had served him faithfully since his exile, had been caught sending signal-fires into the air. They were imprisoned immediately, and, though their interrogations had produced nothing, the prince had little doubt to whom they were signaling. _Zhao,_ he thought, clenching his fist. _You'll pay for this deceit._

Regardless of his own anger, he new, it was his responsibility as captain to provide for his crew in their last hours together. Ten hands had already died in the recent explosion—he wouldn't let his decisions endanger anyone else.

Someone opened the cabin door, without knocking. "Uncle, I'm busy," Zuko snapped, not looking up.

"It's good to know that present circumstances have not soured your sweet disposition, nephew," Iro answered, closing the door behind him. On a normal day, his nephew would have bristled at the word "sweet," but Zuko let it pass. Iro frowned. "Have you made your decision, then?"

"Yes," the prince answered, still not looking up. "I won't be escaping this time."

The general sat down, as if the weight of his sadness was too much for an old man to carry. "And may I ask," he said slowly, "_why_ you have decided to give up so easily? The dingy is certainly small enough to make it into open waters."

"I cannot abandon the men here, not with Zhao on his way," Zuko answered, much as Iro had expected. "I'm staying behind… to _negotiate_." The word, a pathetic synonym for 'surrender' was foul on his tongue.

The old general had never bee more proud of his hot-headed protégé, but why, oh _why_ had the boy's stupidity grown equally with his character? "_I_ will be staying behind to negotiate, Prince Zuko. Having you here would only be redundant."

"You will not!" Zuko jumped up and glared at the man with an energy one wouldn't expect in the defeated. "_You_ will be taking the dingy, you and the five lieutenants. I expect you to be in Earth Nation territory by sunset!"

"Do you really think I would leave you at such a crucial time?" the general retorted. "We're right in the middle of a lesson!"

The paper in Zuko's hand crumbled to ash. "This is _no time_ for your absurd—!" he began, when someone rapped on the door.

"Enter!" called General Iro, despite being in _Zuko's_ room.

The door swung open, showing three, nervous-looking men in the threshold. One, oddly enough, was the ensign who'd found prince's "intense rest" so amusing. Ahead of him stood Ensign Sonjiro, the apparent leader of the group. "Ah…" he fumbled, "Prince Zuko, General…"

"_What _do you_ want_, Ensign?" the prince growled.

"Yes, do come in," said his uncle politely, as if they'd been having a casual discourse on the weather.

None of the men did enter, but Sonjiro seemed to find the courage to deliver his message. "I… we… A bunch of the men and I have been talking, and," he turned to his prince, looking him in the eye. "We want you to know, sir, we're willing to fight for you."

……

ME: Voila!

PEOPLE: This is all very lovely, but what did it have to do with a _lighthouse_?

ME: I'll get to it, I'll get to it… Zhao has orchestrated this whole thing you know—It might take _months_ to develop!

HALF OF PEOPLE: (walk out)

ME: Wait! Wait! (is left in dust) _Fine_… (sob) I'll just have to be nicer to you that haven't abandoned me…

OTHER HALF OF PEOPLE: (extend hands, as if expecting payment)

ME: Fat chance.


	5. Gossip

"Gossip." How is that renegade prince doing? What is the Fire Lord _really_ like? Not everything you hear is true…

…

It was nine o'clock in the Fire Nation's Capital, much too early for a currier to be about. Herald Kaironin, however, was on special business, and had no choice in the matter.

He hurried quietly out of the Imperial Chambers, heart fluttering in his chest. His unwelcome message had not been received well. Why, he might have been _killed_! He slid the door shut and leaned against it, tempted to drop where he stood. It must have shown on his face, for a passing maid called out to him:

"Ronin! You look like hell."

He smiled weakly, rubbing the sweat from his cheeks. Cordellia was always so frank with him, when he came to visit. Uninvited criticism seemed her customary greeting; he sometimes wondered if _she_ should be the herald. "Hello, Cordellia," he said, with the excessive courtesy honed by his years as messenger. "It's been a while."

"Sure has!" she exclaimed, shifting the laundry basket on her hip uncomfortably. She continued down the hall, still speaking, expecting him to tag along. He followed, as he always did, trailing behind in her sunflower-scented wake. "You missed some _choice_ gossip while you were away," she continued, "and someone finally knocked up Shuga!"

"Well she was sleeping around—"

"—Oh she's not upset about it. They're getting married!"

"That's wonderful…"

"There's been a real row over who's to be the best mate, silly really, but quite a show."

"Sounds dangerous…"

"There was a spectacular fight in the men's quarters just last night! Kalib broke his _nose_."

"What were you doing in the—?"

"And speaking of gossip, what brings _you_ here?" She spun neatly on her heel, facing him with an appraising, almost hungry look. "Don't tell me it was just to see the Wonderful _Me_."

The herald blushed, fumbling. "Ah, no, well, it's a long story…"

"I'm all ears!" As she spoke, she pushed open the entry to the noisy laundry room and sauntered ahead. Ronin sighed. Of all the things that made Cordellia so unique, her listening skills were his least favorite. He followed behind.

"Well!" he began, shouting over the noise, "It began about a week ago, with the avatar sighting!"

"Oh, I heard about that!" she answered in like voice, plunking her load onto a folding table. Herealized too late he hadn't offered to carry it for her. "Right on the east coast, right?" she asked.

"Uh yes… Anyway, the _Steeple Chaser_ got wind of it, and was heading this way!"

Cordellia laughed at the reference. 'Steeple Chaser' was a term she'd coined on Ronin's last visit, her nickname for the notorious Prince Zuko. He'd become an almost comical figure to the Fire Nation's lower classes—though not, certainly, to the wary courtiers—as he was ever failing to capture the avatar. An image of the prince galloping after an elusive, arrow-headed fox made even the stuffy Ronin smirk.

"But how could he?" the maid doubted, "He's banished! I heard they'd kill him if he ever came back."

"That's the _idea_ of it, yes. When the prince was convicted of treason those years ago, His Excellency agreed to suspend the charges so long as Prince Zukoavoided Fire Nation Territory. You know, give him a chance to win back his honor."

"Thus this mad steeple chase," she grinned. She pried a blanket from the basket and began folding it, but her attention was fixed on Ronin. "So he broke the deal?" she asked eagerly, "He's not _dead_, is he?"

"He may as well be. It's rather a jumble... but this is my impression: Prince Zuko heard of the avatar sighting on the coast, and decided, against all caution, to set sail for our country. What he didn't know was that some high up official—Zhao, I think his name was—had planted _spies_ on his ship. With their information, this fellow was able to predict the prince's course—right by Youkai Point, coincidentally."

"Your station?"

"Yes," he said, with a hint of pride.

"That backwater rock mire?" she asked.

"…Yes." The pride was gone. "Anyway, rumor is that this _Zhao_ character bribed the lighthouse owners into… absentmindedness." He slyly watched Cordellia's smile widen as the scandal unfolded.

"_No_," she said, "they _put out_ the signal?"

"It would seem so. Zuko's ship crashed on the crags about two this morning." He said it in an offhanded way, knowing full well the reaction it would illicit.

"_No!_" she exclaimed, not out of any remorse for the prince, but at the sheer _magnitude_ of his claims.

"_Yes_," he corrected. "He's floating out there as we speak. Now, the lighthouse workers notified Zhao's men immediately. The soldiers returned from his hideaway about three hours later, and came looking for _me_."

"Aren't _you_ special," Cordellia teased. As they were speaking, she'd found a slight tear in the robe she'd been folding. She stood now with a few pins sticking from her mouth, doing a bit of quick stitching with kit on her belt. Ronin wistfully admired the way her mouth molded to accommodate said pins, but he said nothing. A more Romantic mind might have thought, _O, but to be one of those needles!_ but not the levelheaded herald. He was sensible enough to realize that the life of an inanimate object was quite unpleasant, and besides, he would have no interest in pursuing a woman several thousand times his own weight.

"So what did they want?" she asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

He started—had she noticed he'd been staring? "What? Oh yes. They, they told me to carry this message the king: that the Prince had crashed off point Youkai, in clear violation of parole agreements, and that Zhao would organize a small envoy to… correct the problem. It was a boast, really. I think Zhao imagines he'll win favor with the king in facilitating his son's death… but I doubt he'll succeed. They… they sent me with a copy of the boy's death warrant, for the Emperor to sign."

"Oh…" said Cordellia, her voice touched with sympathy. Suddenly, her big scoop seemed significantly less amusing. The thought of a father turning against his son was enough to touch the heart of the most distant observer. "Well… did he sign it?"

"That's just the thing…" said Ronin, thinking back to his ordeal in the Chambers. "He _didn't_ sign it. His Excellency was _furious_ at first, not at Zhao, I think, but at his son for disrespecting his leniency. But he wouldn't sign it right away."

"So he does care!"

"I don't know… Third Wife was there. She pleaded with him on the Prince's account; I think they must have known each other. Anyway, he decided to delay signing the execution form until the Prince was officially in custody."

"So you mean he has a chance to escape?" she asked, beaming. Ronin could see in her eyes the imagined triumph of fatherly love over hatred, and envied her optimism.

"Theoretically… if he manages to escape the nation without being taken into custody, the old terms will stand. He'll be back to steeple-chasing before another moon sets." _But I doubt very much he will escape._

"How dreamy… I hope father and son will be reunited one day…"

"What makes you think the Emperor is so ready to forgive?" the herald burst, shocking himself with his abruptness. "He's _terrifying_! I was afraid for my _life_ when I delivered that message. If Third Wife hadn't been there, he might have _skewered_ me on my own _scroll._" He paused, wondering what had gotten into him.

"Oh, don't be so faint-hearted, Ronin," the maid said loftily, unaware of how seriously her words would be taken. "The Fire Lord is nothing to be afraid of."

Ronin gawked, mortified at her implicit blasphemy. "How can you _say_ that?"

She shrugged. "He wears yellow underwear."

"He _what_?"

Cordellia produced from her basket a pair of briefs, shining brightly in flamboyant yellow. Appalled, the herald turned to his crush with disbelieving eyes.

He was in the presence of the Imperial Underpants.

….

ME: So how did you like it, People?

PEOPLE: (whispering amongst themselves, glancing around suspiciously)

ME: People…? (Feels utterly out of the loop)

I hate gossip…


	6. Ode to Janice

Yes, this is my Ode to Janice, who will appear briefly in this story as 'Officer Jainska.' She was a senior at my school, the type who really would have liked an _Ode_ in her honor. Alas, she has gone where all seniors go, _college!_ (weeps openly)

…

It was nine o'clock aboard Prince Zuko's wrecked cruiser, much too early to be staging a battle. Zuko's hand, however, had been forced, and he didn't have much choice in the matter.

The plans were laid, the men debriefed, the records burned… Those reluctant to participate had been respectfully imprisoned. Now all that remained was Zhao.

_Where are you, Commander? _Zuko mused, hungrily scanning the horizon. _I'm ready for you... this time._

"Prince Zuko," someone interrupted from behind. It was Iro. "You're looking like a greedy cat in a pet shop."

"The situation has become _infinitely_ more tolerable," the prince declared, his accent tinged with anticipation. "If we succeed, Zhao will taste of _true_ humiliation."

"And if not?"

"Then I can think of no better way to die." He said this with a fiercely profoundconviction, perturbing the old man. His nephew's hatred ran deep…

"Well _I_ certainly can," he moped, patting his belly. "An overdose of lilac tea would have been preferable. Or perhaps this old heart could give out at the surprise ending of a _very good book_."

Zuko rolled his eyes,smirking out to sea. Then he saw it:a trio of glinting black ships had just rounded the point, making a beeline for the wreck. "ALL HANDS!" Zuko shouted, whipping around to face the deck. "PRE_SENT_!"

The sailors, then loitering anxiously on deck, rushed into formation. They aligned themselves in straight rows, about two yards from the rail, in the traditional greeting for a passing allied ship.

From the angle of Zhao's cruiser, he had no intention of 'passing.' Onboard, the commander stood at the very head of his vessel, savoring the image of the prince's ruined fortune. "This is it," he said, in a deliriously happy voice that, despite its exuberance, held the threat of a snarl.

His second in command, Officer Jainska, eyed him with disdain. _It certainly is, _she agreed. _This lunatic and his vendettas have wasted enough of my career._ She made a mental note to ask for a transfer—the instant her boots touched land.

Aboard the wreck, Zuko watched a fourth ship round the point, but it seemed to be the last. Apparently, Zhao had not come with a show of _force, _as was expected, but a show of _ease_, to rub salt in the wound. This was luck Zuko hadn't counted on, but he was grateful nonetheless.

"And the curtain parts," said Iro quietly, sounding pleased. He took his place by the prince's side as the flagship pulled up beside them.

The prince studied the craft closely. As he had predicted, Zhao's personal ship, _Red Lightning_, had reached them first. The sleek, black-tinted vessel was famed as the swiftest ship in the navy, making up for its small size and minimal firepower. There wasn't much of a crew on board either...

Its captain, seeming to Zuko's prejudiced eyes a shabby foil to the vessel, stood confidently by the prow, facinghim with _unbearable_ smugness. "Prince Zuko," he called up to him, sarcastically using his formal title, "I have come to accept your _unconditional_ surrender."

"And what are the charges?" Zuko stalled, trying to look dismayed. He spoke clearly, though not _quite_ loud enough to be well-heard. The _Lightning_ moved closer.

As Zhao read the charges, relishing each one as a new flavor, Officer Jainska's intuition began to itch. She eyed the maroon bulge of civilians' clothing beneath the cornered soldiers' armor, and bit her lip. Their faces were almost eager, their eyes bright--not what you would expect of a defeated rabble.

_Do not interrupt the dialog between Zuko and myself, _Zhao had ordered that morning, already sipping a celebratory glass of sake. _I want to imprint this moment untainted upon my __memory_And so, Jainska remained silent.

The commander finished his monologue and looked up at the prince, a sneering. "Any last words as a free man…?"

Zuko looked solemn for a moment, as if truly considering his epitaph. The illusion cracked, and his face broke into a grin. "_APPRICOT_!" he shouted. On cue, the rows of men standing behind him leapt forward, screaming victory. Prince and company bounded over the rails, landing on Zhao's ship with shaking force. The commander gawked- was this really happening? In a blur, the rebels had hurled half the crew overboard, without even giving them a chance to think! The air was alive with their splashing, their angry, astonished screams—this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Soon, Zhao's men had unsheathed their swords and were fighting fiercely.Some used fire-bending to sheild themselves from attack. Others pitched jets of flame into the mob, scorching friend as well as enemy.

One such blast singed Zuko's armor. Three of soldiers advanced on him, blades at the ready_. Too many crave the glory my death can bring..._ He dropped to the floor, felling two with a sweeper kick. They were soon trampled beneath the fighting horde. The other darted towards him, shouting, "_Traitor_!" Zuko narrowly dodged the fall of his sword, twisted behind him, and landed a solid blow to his back. It propelled him all the way to the rail and, with a little help froma grinning enisign, he was overboard.

The prince plunged deeper into the skirmish, searching for Zhao. Oh, the satisfaction he would get from pulverizing—but he arrived too late. Five men had surrounded the commander, cutting him off from his loyal guards. Together—and with great gusto—they tossed him from the ship by the seat of his pants.

"AAAH!"

The battle was over in minutes—but they had to hurry! The other ships were moving in. Zuko quickly ordered a squad of twenty-five below deck, where they would overpower the workers in the engine room and mess hall. Before long, shouts and crashes floated up from below. "_My cabbages_!" someone wailed. Soon, the ship was moving under Zuko's command.

"Forward!" he shouted, shooing the helmsman to the wheel. "Take us around the nearest vessel, _hurry_!"

As the boat pulled out, and the last loyalist stragglers were hurled into the sea, its deposed crew drifted like so much flotsam in its wake. Zuko's crew had mercifully avoided killing by their blunt weapons, but for some, living on in shame was worse. Zhao treaded red-faced in the water, hailing his fleeing ship with an unintelligible string of curses. "_I'LLGETYOUFORTHIS!MARKMYWORDS,I'LLMAKEYOUPAAY_!" He accompanied his screams with angry splashing, only serving to pull him under_."GARGDAMMIT!"_

Officer Jainska bobbed indignantly nearby, noting his childish display with distaste. "Commander," she announced primly, through a dark sheet of wet hair, "I want a transfer."

…

ME: Well, how was it?

PEOPLE: Do you always toss your friends off ships..?


	7. Hey, who took my horse?

This chapter is called "Hey, who took my horse?" for _obvious_ reasons.

_Red Lightning_ sped through the water like a caffeinated dolphin, faster than any craft Zuko had ever captained. Still… they were cutting it close. While the last cruiser lagged far behind, there were two ships looming within firing range: _Blood Thunder_ and _Slayer._ Both were heavily armed, but drifted indecisively. Would it be treason to fire on the commander's wayward vessel? Said commander was in no position to order it.

"CATAPULTS AT THE READY!" Zuko ordered, eying the motionless ships they circled. A dozen men rushed to obey, locking down springs and setting the ammunition ablaze.

Finally, the _Slayer_ made its move. It turned slowly towards the west, lumbering towards the wreck. It seemed more interested in rescuing the abandoned crew than hunting down the rebels. Moments later, the _Thunder _chose the opposite course, angling its streamlined body at the _Lightning's_ heart.

_Shit! _Zuko silently cursed. The _Thunder_ was the second-fastest ship of the fleet, second to the _Lightning_ by only a small margin. The arced course they'd been forced to follow put them at a disadvantage. "Helmsman," he snapped, "level out our course." _There's no hope of avoiding an exchange, but we may yet outrun them._

"Yessir," he answered, brow furrowed in concentration. He sliced through the semi-circle they'd formed, nearing the enemy vessel within reckless proximity. A blind man could strike them at this range, but it was vital that Zuko's crew touched shore first.

Even as these maneuvers were being performed, the prince's men were tearing off their armor, revealing civilian garb beneath. They grinned at each other, knowing that their mobile internment at sea was coming to an end.

_FOOM—_it seemed that the _Thunder_ had finally straightened its priorities. They opened fire, sending a scattering of hot coals accorss the _Lightning's_ deck. Such weapons were targeted at fragile human flesh, protecting the ship from damage. "RETURN FIRE!" Zuko boomed, "HEAVY ARTILERY!" Catapults _twanged _free, launching oil-covered boulders at the enemy. The fire-benders aboard lit the stones mid-air, creating a blazing meteor shower. As was common with these bulky weapons, five out of twelve shots missed. Those that did strike regrettably failed to tear the _Thunder's _hull, but the aesthetic damage elicited a cheer from Zuko's crew. They were acting like free men already.

Now the two ships were traveling in a column, with the _Thunder_ not far behind. It seemed to pick up a momentary burst of speed, nearly ramming the smaller vessel.

"They are attempting to _board_ us!" General Iro warned, pointing at the rear. A pack of battle-ready soldiers balanced shakily on the_ Thunder's_ prow, looking ready to jump. The catapults were too heavy to reposition in time…

"FIRE BENDERS!" the prince ordered, waving a squad to the stern. Ensign Sonjiro and six others sprinted down the deck, assailing the ill-prepared boarding party with a scathing blast. Several of them tumbled off the prow, to be gutted by the ship's razor-thin rudder. Their shreiks, traveling against the wind, barely reached the prince's ears.

A vengeful hail was launched an instant later—this time with burning stones. One, hilariously, fell back on the fast-moving ship, injuring several of its own crew. But another careened directly into the _Lightning_'s smoke tower, filling the air with smog.

_We're fighting blind! _Zuko worried. _This smoke-screen will at least hide us from them, but only so long as they remain behind us. Surely they would not be so foolish…?_ Quickly, he ordered eight of the catapults to be repositioned at port and starboard, while the other four remained trained on the rear. "FIRE, LIGHT ARTILLERY!" he ordered. _We will gauge their position by their screams. _

His gruesome plan succeeded: to the _Thunder_, a fireworks display seemed to tear out of the cloud enveloping _Lightning_. Several enemy fighters were caught offguard, and screamed in pain at their blistering wounds. An exchange of light fire ensued, neither side quite knowing where to aim their fiery barrage. Several of Zuko's men were injured—but there was no dearth of volunteers to replace them.

Finally, the smoke cleared, and their destination was in sight! The little town looked so sweet and pure on the shore, unwary of their coming visitors. The men whooped for joy, gleefully shedding the last of their military paraphernalia. _Thunder_ began to wane in its pursuit as _Lightning_ pulled farther ahead—this was it!

Just moments before the ship ran aground, Zuko initiated the last stage of the plan—and the last order he would give to these men. "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!"

G_RRRRCREEAAAAKKKK_!

The ship's rudder collided with the sand, and _Lighting_ came to rest on the shores of San Rokuyo. Soldiers bounded of the ship in a cascade of boyish excitement, bidding the sea farewell. Many of them still loved their nation, and, thanks to Zuko, most of them would enlist once again. But as for the perilous ocean—they'd had enough.

"Don't be late, Prince Zuko!" called Iro from the prow. Zuko rushed after him, watching curiously as his elderly relation leapt ably over the rail. He followed behind, eyes already darting around for an unguarded horse or place to hide.

Sonjiro, meanwhile, had opted to take shelter in the town, as had most of the other men. In their civilians clothing—and with local cooperation—they wouldn't be recognized. He rushed into a hut by the coast, only to walk in on a young woman being fitted for a dress. "Please!" he burst, blushing painfully, "Pretend that I'm your husband!"

"No problem, Cutie." She winked suggestively.

(Author's note: Sonjiro won't be leaving this village for a very looong time. ; ) )

Outside, Zuko was becoming frantic. There was no way he and his uncle could go unobserved—not with his scar and his uncle's fame. Iro, thankfully, had found a brown-dappled horse loitering by a house. A fair-haired child stood at its side, studying the newcomers intently.

"May we please borrow this horse?" Iro asked politely, as if they had all day to chat. The girl gave a quizzical look, but said nothing.

"Oh, just _take_ it!" Zuko barked, snatching the reigns. _Blood Thunder_ had just stopped off the coast, and the landing boats were being lowered.

"We do apologize for this," Iro said sincerely, handing her a purse of gold pieces. He straddled the horse behind his nephew and took off, leaving the girl with a load she really didn't want. It wasn't _her_ horse, after all.

…

PEOPLE: Woah! You actually posted a chapter from the same perspective you'd left off on!

ME: Oh rub it in… do any of you know of a good site where you can upload images? I wanna try to illustrate this story! (grin) but sucks ass... they shrink down all my pictures…


	8. Loyalty

This chapter is called "Loyalty," something worthy of reward...

…

A fire nation soldier stared somberly at Zhao's back, remembering better days. There was once a time when Zhao was reasonable—_sane_, a time when being in his service brought honor and respect. But as of late… he sighed. Zhao's already-erratic mind had embarked on a steep decline after his duel with Prince Zuko. Now the commander had been bested once again—what would become of those who followed him?

Another sigh. The soldier turned away, resuming his duties from a safe distance.

Meanwhile, Zhao was lost in thoughts of his own. His mind lingered on a favorite fantasy about Zuko, himself, and a bag of nails. Ah yes… the nails…

He shook himself. Actual circumstances weren't _nearly_ so pleasant. He and his men had been rescued from the sea, but their prey had escaped. Now they stood on Zuko's ruined ship, combing the wreck for any hint of his intentions. _Once we have the ship's roster,_ thought the commander, the gleam back in his eyes, _we'll have wanted posters of these renegades paving the roads! Certainly the prince wasn't fool enough to think his men would get away clean… _

Footsteps sounded behind him. He turned to face the source, with an expression that said you-just-interrupted-something-vital-to-world-security. Three people rigidly greeted him, two soldiers, and a prisoner? She was a middle-aged, harried-looking woman with a doctor's insignia on her sleeves. The mark of Zuko's service blazed on her armor.

"Where did you find this mutinous _swine_!" Zhao demanded.

"She was in the brig, sir," answered a soldier, "along with ten others."

"My liege!" the doctor pulled away from the man holding her and bowed to the commander. The soldier made a grab for her, but Zhao seized her first. He gripped the woman by her graying hair, pulling her face to his. "How _dare_ you address me, traitor?" he snarled.

"Please, sir," she begged, "it's not—!"

"Permission to speak!" piped one of the guards. Zhao glowered at him. The man must have taken that as 'permission granted,' for he hurriedly stated, "This woman and the others were imprisoned by the former crew because they were unwilling to participate in the rebellion."

Zhao did not let go of the doctor's hair. "Is this _true_?" he challenged her.

"Yes!" she said, holding back pained tears. "We wanted to stay loyal to the Fire Lord. Prince Zuko said he wouldn't force us to fight for him—"

"That bastard is no _prince_," Zhao corrected vehemently. He did release her hair though, giving it a last tug that sent her stumbling into the soldier who'd spoken for her. "But if you're as loyal as you claim, then you will _inform us_ where to find his log."

"That's the other thing we came to tell you," said the soldier to the left, a nervous tremor in his voice. No one liked to deal with the commander in a rage. "The records… seem to have been disposed of."

"DIS_POSED_ OF?"

"All we found was a pile of ash, sir."

((The commander's response was so obscene that the author fears it would traumatize more sensitive readers.))

Zhao felt much calmer after decking the unfortunate messenger. He turned his back to the prone, wheezing sailor, taking meditative breaths. "At least we have _you_ then," he said after a while, speaking to the doctor. "You will compose a list of your former crewmates, and we will _see_ what can be done for you."

The poor woman trembled behind him, leaning against the remaining soldier in hopes of sanctuary. "I…" she fumbled, eyeing the bloody man on the ground. "I can't… do that…"

The commander pinched the bridge of his nose, gathering what shreds of his self control that remained. "And why _not_?" he asked evenly, biting back the angry shout clamoring in his chest.

"We all… swore… an oath!" she managed, on the verge of collapsing. On some level, Zhao wondered how such a weak specimen had ever made it into the navy. _Healers…_

"Then you are just a guilty as the rest!" He spun on his heal to face them. "Soldier! Take this traitor to the _Slayer's _brig!"

"Yes sir!" He gave a hurried salute and grabbed the doctor's arm, eager to get away.

"And sailor…" Zhao added, in a chilling tone. "Send lieutenant Goruske to keep her company. He can be… _so convincing_, don't you think?" The gleam was back.

"…Yes sir."

….

ME: You can't have a story without a crazy guy! And while we're here… thanks all of you who read and reviewed! (big anime sparkly eyes)


	9. Blue Eyes

EDIT **ANNOUNCEMENT: **I'm going to be testing until the tenth of june, so I won't be able to post for a while. (finals looming over head) AHH! Sosorry everyone… thanks for your patience and those great reviews! (guilt trip) I'll update asap after exams!

The night was cold, black, devoid of both warmth and color. It was one of those nights when the clouds hang thick and close, while the stars seem immeasurably distant.

Overhead, a mute battle raged between the two, as if the yin and yang of the heavens had turned against one another. White, wintry starlight defied the inky mass of black clouds that still lingered from the Storm. The besieged stars bravely shone in broken torrents onto earth, but would inevitably succumb to the dark. The ever-churning sea lay impartially below, glittering with starlight and shadows alike.

Hanging in between was the flying bison, ferrying his passengers along their hopeless mission. They were still searching for what they'd lost, that friend who'd parted when their backs were turned.

"Kataaaaraaaaah!" Aang called, hands over his mouth, using his bending to project his voice into the distance. The effect was eerie: not a single echo reverberated back to them, as if his voice had simply dissipated into an infinite nothing. "Kataaaraah!" he called again, weaker this time. Sokka hunched lower in the saddle, hearing the quiver in Aang's youthful tenor. This was no time to be getting all _weepy_.

The young avatar sat heavily on Appa's hindquarters, releasing his hold on the winds. "I can't hear her at all, Sokka," he said softly.

"Shut _up_ Aang," the older boy growled.

"We've been searching since the _storm_… If she even was on the ocean this long, she'd be, she'd be—!"

"I said shut _UP_!"

Big, wet tears began rolling down Aang's cheeks, falling to their furry resting place in Appa's coat. "SHE'S DEAD!" he wailed.

_SLAP_—Sokka's ungloved hand raked across Aang's face, sending a few tears sailing into the sea. "She'd not DEAD, you ASS! Whatever happened to NOT GIVING UP UNTIL WE FOUND HER, HUH?" he demanded, voice cracking. "Just GET UP and GET ON with your BENDING crap and—and—" Aang released a few strangled gasps, face contorted in childish vulnerability. Sokka still felt the boy's brackish tears between his fingers, and became aware of a similar wetness on his own cheeks.

"Aang, I'm so sorry…" He rubbed his face on the back of his sleeve, ashamed. "I just… won't accept that."

"Was a stupid thing to say…"

"But you're right, though. There really isn't any chance… finding her out here." He slouched miserably back into his seat, bringing the exchange to a bleak halt. Even if there wasn't any hope… he was determined to at least carry out the motions.

Aang quietly tried to compose himself, closing his red-rimmed eyes, focusing his powers n the air around them. His mind still drifted… Katara… her laugh, would they ever hear it again? Her beautiful blue eyes…

_The priestess! _His eyes shot open, their grey depths burning with hope. Ancient events came rushing back in a swirl of color and sound—he knew how to find Katara!

"Sokka!" he cried, scrambling forward to the saddle packs. Sokka looked back when the noise of his rummaging demanded it, to see the child whip out the much-used (butseldom-understood) world map. "_We_ might not be able to find Katara," Aang grinned, "but I know someone who can!" He traced an eager finger to the eastern Earth Kingdom, a region of plains and marshes. The marker of Dai Mae City was nestled in those fields…

"Who?" Sokka ventured, craning his neck closer.

"The priestesses of Dai Mae!" Aang bounced excitedly. "They know _everything_! I went there a long time ago with Monk Kyatsu. They told us the most _amazing_ things!"

"Like what?" was the skeptical reply.

"Like…" Aang searched his memory. His mind's eye saw the priestesses sitting by the sacred springs, their all-seeing blue eyes staring with chilling scrutiny. What was it Kyatsu had asked? "Where Kyatsu's lost glasses had gone to!" Yes, that was it!

"..Where were they?" Sokka asked.

"On his face."

Beneath them, Appa rolled his eyes and groaned.

"_Aang_!"

"Wait, that wasn't all! Before we left, one of the priestesses caught my hand… she said that a great disturbance was coming... that it would last a hundred years! I didn't think much of it then, but—"

"The war? You think she was talking about the Fire Nation attacks?"

"Maybe! And she couldn't possibly have known about _that_, now could she?" He grinned, wagging his finger in almost comical smugness.

Sokka heaved a sigh. He didn't put much stock in fortune tellers… and it certainly wouldn't have been hard to fool the gullible young Aang… but… "It's not like we have any other options," he shrugged. With a slight tug on the reigns, he turned the bison eastward, onto the Dai Mea. The dubious coastline, perhaps his sister's final resting place, vanished from sight. It was hard to see it go…

Overhead, the cavalry arrived. A shaft of bright moonlight pierced the clouds, illuminating the night with its comforting glow. Sokka looked up at it, and, baffling even to him, a small smile crept onto his face. Maybe this wasn't so hopeless after all.

PEOPLE: (stunned silence)

ME: that wasn't so bad, ne? (takes good look at People's horrified, disgusted expressions) Well at least you made it to the bottom of the page...


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